What Was Lost
by meira16
Summary: Tonker and Lofty set out to reclaim what was taken. Dark, no slash


**What Was Lost**

They only speak of what had been lost once. They don't speak of it when it begins; they don't speak of it as it grows. Even the birth itself passes without mention. The day they talk about it is a day like any other; the tears and anger and determination come out of nowhere.

There isn't really much to say. It was hers and they have taken it away. Now Lofty wants revenge and a new life, and to get back what was hers; the fire in her eyes finally matches the steel in Tonker's. They are ready.

Of course, being ready is never enough. They need a plan. But as soon as Tonker comes up with the plan, Lofty is able to get them out.

They stop along the way, to deal with unfinished business. The business burns long and bright; and the screams do not pierce their hearts.

They don't go to enlist right away; they are too careful to be so hasty. They hide for two weeks, living on stolen food and stolen time.

The unspoken idea was always to go out and find what had been lost, but somewhere along the way they end up saving their country and disposing of Nuggan and in general changing the world. And afterwards there are so many other things to do, and nobody to tell them they couldn't.

They make no effort to clear out the Grey House before burning it. The people in there are … _were_… either less than human or have no life worth living. Tonker's guilty awareness of the faultiness in this reasoning, resonating in Polly's voice, does not touch her heart. Things are better this way. She will not take the blame for people locked in cellars or beaten until they would not run to save their own lives.

Tonker knows all about blame. She is a Child of Nuggan; a baby that could not be explained. All children are sinful, but Children of Nuggan are the most sinful of all and hold a _special_ place in Father Jupe's regard. Tonker's mother had been sent to Another Place as soon as her child had been born and Tonker had been brought up as a Child in the Grey House. In truth, it would not surprise Tonker if her mother was one of the older girls at the Grey House, but she doesn't really care. Better to belong to oneself.

Whereas Lofty had grown up outside the Grey walls, a child of an everyday family. But something had changed; Lofty has never been clear on exactly what, and if Lofty will not tell then Tonker would rather not know. Lofty's mother and father had decided that their placid, everyday lives were not quite so satisfactory and would be better spent apart. Lofty became a shared memory that both could do without, and she ends up at the Grey House not as a bad girl, but simply as an unwanted one.

The mention of it slips out in Tonker's rant in the fortress. Neither of them ever corrects Polly's belief that it is something that haunts them and preys on their minds. In truth it barely registers amid the range of pain and humiliation that they have experienced.

But some time later, after justice has been done (or at least their version of justice, as opposed to Justice, which is decided by faraway people who would never experience Justice themselves), Lofty says that it is time to look for that which had been lost. Tonker has no need to ask what she means; they abruptly turn around and head for their old residence.

Finding what had been lost is not difficult; one of the clearest hallmarks of people like Father Jupe is the meticulousness with which they record the deeds of which they are most proud, deeds that leave others shivering. And Father Jupe himself is easy to find; Nuggan may be gone but there is always work for those who seem.

For the first time he seems frightened as he faces them. He doesn't remember them; two faces lost in a sea of girls who had no need for faces or names or love or mercy. And for some reason this ignorance infuriates Tonker more than anything, because his red hair, quite uncommon in Borogravia, is shared by her and so many of the Children in the Grey House, and this knowledge has lurked at the edges of her mind for so long and she has never understood until now.

Her rage serves its purpose and is stored away for when it will be needed again. They are given a name and address. It will not be hard to find; people always return to their places after the wars. They cannot imagine being anywhere else and so get stuck in their crab barrel; even Polly, dreamer that she is, had to go home before she realized that she no longer belongs there. A small mercy; it is much easier not to get caught when everyone assumes you will go right back to where you started.

They approach the house. It is a _nice_ house; the sort of house that Tonker thinks is too good to be true and Lofty _knows_ is too good to be true. It must hide some horrible secret; something that makes the climbing ivy as secure as any prison. They stand at the edge and watch; it comes naturally to them.

After a while a man and a boy come out. The boy looks to be the right age; his eyes are Lofty's, though without the embers, but otherwise he looks nothing like her, which Tonker regards as an excellent survival trait.

The flames dance in Lofty's eyes as she waits for something to happen. Tonker knows that she is expecting the boy to turn his head and reveal the scars that testify to the beatings he has endured, or perhaps to trip over nothing and be sent inside to await senseless retribution for the crime of being human. A vindication of their right to be there, of their right to vengeance, a confirmation that what was done was wrong in its results as well as in its nature.

But instead the boy picks up a ball from the ground. The man catches it and sends it back. Their movements are unpractised and yet perfectly in sync; the rhythm that comes with deeply engrained companionship. Laughter rings out with no alloy or bitterness.

Avoiding Lofty's eyes, Tonker asks her what she wants to do. The girl shakes her head dumbly; nodding her head towards Tonker, she indicates that the larger girl should decide.

Despite Lofty's conviction that there was a reason for coming here, Tonker cannot understand what that reason is. What could they give him? Quite possibly he knows nothing of his beginnings; would he want to?

The truth, of course, is impossible to tell; the gruesome tale of a childhood lost for the sake of a monster's hunger is no fairy tale for the boy to hear. Nor is the half-truth, the easiest lie of ignorance, any more palatable; Nuggan may be dead, but the shame of his Children lives on and the Grey House was not the only one of its kind.

Of course, there is another option. It is not one Tonker wants to employ, although she would do so if Lofty wanted. Together the two of them could give the child a mother and father; Tonker has mastered to perfection the pretended identity at which Lofty is so inept. She could fool anyone.

But what if she is too successful? She will not be able to disappear so easily if there is a child involved; she will be committed to a false life. And perhaps there will be nothing to go back to; Polly is a bad liar and Tonker has worked out Sarge's secret and would have cried for the lost time if that was the sort of thing she did. Lofty may have given up on happy endings, but in a dark corner of her heart Tonker hopes one day to have someone else, for someone else to wear the socks and give her a rest. No children, of course, but there is always a price.

But she will do it if Lofty asks. They have always stuck together, and she will not betray her on the doorstep of what she wants most. She looks at Lofty, who knows the choices as well as she does.

"No." As usual, Lofty's rare words have the force of a sledgehammer. The boy has enough; they will do nothing to shatter the fragile happiness that he seems to have. The right decision.

"We'll come back." Lofty's quiet certainty showed nothing of the sadness of being unnecessary. They will not come back; it will be too painful. But the lie is comforting. And Tonker breathes a guilty sigh of relief that Lofty didn't ask the impossible of her.

What was lost will remain lost.


End file.
